"Didn't I just see you, Red?" Edgar asked as I walked into the comic book shop. It'd been a good hour since I spoke to Edgar last, but I had nothing else to do. Granted, talking to someone who could possibly kill me was dangerous. But I don't know. They may be useful. Especially if the Coyotes are in town.
"Yea, so?" I asked and smiled, sitting on a barstool at one of the counters they were working out, "Can't I hang out with my cool, new friends?" I questioned.
Sam was there as well, and he nudged Edgar a bit, "She's calling you guys cool. She might not be all too right in the head, but I'd risk it."
"Aren't you friends with them too?" I asked, leaning over.
He just shrugged, "Because of me, they're a lot cooler than they were before."
"Says the fashion victim." Alan remarked, as he carried around a box of comics, setting them down on the appropriate shelf.
I looked around at the store, noticing that besides us four, there was only about two other people. One of them had his nose stuck in a comic, the other seemed to be using this place as a cover to stare at girls asses from a distance.
"So, business always booming?" I asked sarcastically.
"It has its days." Edgar said, "You want water?" He asked.
"Um . . " I paused, "Sure?" I asked. You can't exactly put silver in water. At least not in any way I can think of.
Alan and Sam looked at him, and as he handed me the glass, he nodded while glancing at them. That wasn't at all suspicious.
"I'm not going to drop dead once I drink this, right?" I questioned, pointing to the dixie cup of water.
"You shouldn't." Edgar said in his usual stoic, completely serious way.
Cautiously I sipped the water, and they all just kind of stared. I was surprised there was no burning sensation. No silvery taste, no crushed up wolf's bane. When I looked back up at them, they seemed shocked too.
"Okay, don't tell me there's a roofie in my drink. . ." I played it off.
"Just the opposite." Edgar responded, "Holy water." He pointed, "Just picked up a gallon this morning from the local church." he explained.
"You were testing to see if I was a vampire?" I snapped. If this was a book or a movie, I'd be insulted for being considered a vampire when I'm a werewolf.
"Had to make sure. You were acting suspicious." Edgar explained.
The irony.
"I'm really starting to question my decision on why I thought this was a good idea." I admitted to myself.
"At least you're clean." Alan said, going behind the counter along with Sam.
"Well," Edgar corrected, "At least you're not a vampire."
"You guys are really serious about this whole vampire thing." I pinched the bridge of my nose, "You know there's a normal life you guys could have. It doesn't involve hunting . . imaginary beings." I told them. They shouldn't throw themselves in this dangerous world.
"None of its important." Edgar said.
"We do what we have to, to make sure everyone else can live their normal life." Alan continued.
My eyebrows furrowed a bit, "Says who?" I asked, "Who told you guys to do that?"
"It's just how it's suppose to be." Edgar defended.
I put my hands up in defeat, "Well whatever." I sighed, "Just . . . don't get yourselves hurt." I warned them, as I grabbed my dixie cup, crushed it, and threw it at the trash can. I got up, and walked out.
I'm going to be honest, I have no idea what I was doing. It was risky being around them. They tested to see if I was a vampire, what if they tested if I was a werewolf. One touch of silver, and my skin burns like it's against a hot iron. But there was something about them. A sense of security. Like maybe they could help with the Coyote problem that may or may not even exist in Santa Carla. I don't even know if they're good slayers. I don't even know if they're slayers. They could just be kids high on sugar playing make believe at the age of sixteen. Maybe it was my human instincts wanting friends, but if that was the case, my human instincts were dumb. Those are the types of guys you go to if you're a normal human. I just felt all over the place, scattered. Maybe it was just moving. That had to be it.
Maybe I should just go for a run. Yea, that's it. A nice run through the hills to clear my head. The wind in my fur. Trust me, after sixteen years of being a werewolf, that phrase will still always sound weird. The sun was starting to go down, I'm sure I'd be fine.
Just in case, I shot my father a quick message telling him what I was doing, especially since I won't have my phone on me. Or any clothes for that matter.
I headed out to the hills, pretty far from the residential areas and local streets. Still wasn't much trees, but at least people may think I'm just a wild animal. The sun still barely peaked over the horizon as I kicked off my shoes and peeled my clothes off. A shiver went up my spine, as a breeze brushed past my skin. Quickly the shiver went away, as the fur rapidly grew, like the sped up time lapse of grass growing. My face shifted, and my joints cracked and shifted. It felt so nice being in this form after so long. My fur remained the same red color as my hair when I was human. My eyes still the pale blue. But I was so much more than human. I felt free.
With my paws I dug a quick hole and nudged my clothes in there. Didn't matter if they got dirty, but I'd prefer they didn't get stolen. But now, I can just run.
The hills and the rocky mountains were wonderful. Covered in a soft, fine dirt. The moon was only three quarters, but it felt amazing. I could smell the little cedar and pine they had out here. But it was amazing. I thought nothing could ruin this night.
Until I leaped over the top rock.